


Two Paper Snowflakes

by LizaCameron



Series: Seven Days Series [9]
Category: The West Wing
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Humor, Holiday, Liza's Josh/Donna Seven Days Series, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-01-07
Updated: 2005-01-07
Packaged: 2019-05-30 13:40:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15097799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LizaCameron/pseuds/LizaCameron
Summary: Josh and Donna Christmas tree shopping.





	Two Paper Snowflakes

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

**Two Paper Snowflakes**

**by: Liza C.**

**Character(s):** Josh, Donna  
**Pairing(s):** Josh/Donna  
**Category(s):** Romance  
**Rating:** YTEEN  
**Disclaimer:** The characters belong to other people; this is for fun and no money.  
**Summary:** Josh and Donna Christmas tree shopping. 2nd installment in the Seven Days One Winter series  
**Author's Note:** Beta'd by Kim, who makes everything I write much better. 

"What's wrong with this one?" I might have sighed when I just said that, because truth be told, I'm not sure I'm cut out for this activity. My nose is cold, my ears are cold, and I have to hop up and down to keep my feet from going numb. 

"Too tall." Her tone is decisive; apparently she knows what she wants. We just can't find it. 

"What do you mean, too tall? The last one was too short, but it was the same size as this one!" Women… 

"No, see, that one was fat and this one is skinny." 

"What does that have to do with its height?" 

"It's all about proportion and perception." 

"Is it always this hard to pick a Christmas tree?" I ask with exasperation. 

"Quit complaining, we've only been here twenty minutes. When my family used to go to pick out a tree, it could take hours." 

"Hours! Why? Why must it take so long? Just pick one, load it up and go. How about that one?" I point to what, to my eye, is a fine looking tree, right in front of us. 

And now she's looking at me like I just suggested that we go find some puppies to kick. 

"That's a Scotch pine!" 

"So… " 

"Josh, we're looking for a fir tree, preferably a Frasier fir. Try to keep that in mind." 

I stop walking. This is just too much. "Now we're quibbling about the species of the tree… they all look the same!" 

"No, see here." She yanks off her glove, then reaches for my hand and removes mine as well. The air is cold, but her hand is warm. I like it when she holds my hand. But apparently holding my hand wasn't her objective, because suddenly, I'm fondling a tree. When did it come to this? 

"See how it's soft to the touch?" I nod. It is soft to the touch. "And notice the strong branches and pleasing scent." 

"Donna, we're surrounded by trees, the pleasing scents are all mixing together, and have you been moonlighting as a Christmas tree wholesaler on the side?" 

"No, like I said, picking a tree was a big deal in my family." She pulls me several feet down another aisle and guides my hand to another tree. "Now feel this." 

"Ouch!" That hurt! 

"Feel the difference?" She's giving me a knowing look. 

"The damn tree bit me!" 

Now she's giggling. "The tree did not bite you, Josh." 

"It did! I think I might be bleeding!" She rolls her eyes, but at the same time raises my injured hand to her lips and presses a gentle kiss to the pad of my index finger. Which, of course, is not bleeding, but since my claim just got her to kiss my hand, don't expect me to feel bad about the exaggeration. 

"All better?" 

"Maybe…" Are you kidding me? I think her lips possess some incredible restorative powers; she might just be able to cure anything that ails me with a kiss. 

She's shaking her head sadly at me, but her eyes are twinkling. I love it when they twinkle at me. Maybe it's because of the cold or maybe it's because of her bright blue hat and scarf, but her eyes seem extra clear and extra blue tonight. I feel my breath catch in my throat. She's absolutely adorable standing there in her puffy white coat and all I want to do at this moment is kiss her. It's an urge incredibly familiar to me. But then it hits me, I don't have to deny it anymore. There is no need to pretend that I don't feel the way I feel, to suppress the desire to feel her lips under mine. 

She's still got my hand by the wrist, but I turn the tables so that now I have her by the wrist. Gently, I tug her towards me until we're standing toe to toe… and nose to nose. We stand that way for several seconds, our breath co-mingling, until I see her tongue flick out and then run all the way across her lower lip. That should be me licking her lower lip! Wasting no more time, I settle my hands at the waist of her puffy jacket and rub my nose against hers once, before my mouth finds hers. The kiss is gentle and sweet… acceptable for public consumption. Which, actually, isn't that important, since we're lost in an evergreen maze and no one can currently see us. 

Or at least I don't think anyone can see us. Donna groans with what I hope is pleasure, and I am just about to deepen the kiss, when I hear someone clear their throat. 

Surprisingly, we don't jump apart like teenagers just caught necking by their parents; we finish the kiss and then slowly pull away from one another. We both turn to look in the direction of the noise, and not ten feet away is a little wood hut. Where did that come from? I would have sworn we were completely alone out here. 

But we're not. A white-haired lady waves at us from a cut-out in the door of the wood hut. 

"Look, hot chocolate!" Donna is now tugging me towards the booth. As I get closer, I figure out that we are now in the back corner of the tree lot. 

"What is this?" I ask Donna. 

But before Donna can hazard a guess, the hut lady, who upon further inspection seems to be wearing some sort of Mrs. Claus outfit, answers, "They put a warming hut back here, so that you don't get too cold to shop." 

"Ahhh." I guess that makes sense. What do I know? I thought going to help Donna get a Christmas tree was going to be a fifteen minute affair, tops. I didn't realize that it was such an ordeal that people would need to take a break for refreshment before finishing. 

Donna smiles brightly at the woman. "We'll take two large hot chocolates." 

I reach for my wallet, but Donna stops me with a hand on my arm. "My treat… for helping me with a tree." 

I grin at her. "So, I'm spending hours in the freezing cold and getting attacked by a rabid tree, for a holiday I don't even celebrate, and my only payment is a hot chocolate?" 

Donna nods, but corrects me, "A large hot chocolate. Don't forget I'm springing for the large." 

"Sorry, I stand corrected; my only payment for services rendered is a large hot chocolate." 

"Pretty much… except for this." She leans up and presses her lips softly to my cheek. "Thanks for coming with me to stand in the cold and get attacked by a tree for a holiday you don't even celebrate." 

I can tell there is a stupid grin on my face. "Anytime." And I mean it. 

There's a little covered area attached to the hut, with several large heaters and picnic tables. We're the only ones here right now, so we have our pick of tables, but instead Donna bypasses them all and leads me to a wooden bench near a heater that looks out into the tree lot. Or what we can see of the tree lot through all the, you know, trees. 

We get settled next to one another so that our jeans-clad thighs are touching. I take a sip of hot chocolate and feel the warmth spread through my abdomen. Glancing at her out of the corner of my eye, I ask, "So, why do we need to get a tree for your apartment again? If we're spending Christmas at your parents' house… and believe, me if you've re-thought that and want to spend it here just the two of us, I'll, of course, be disappointed, but-" 

She nudges my knee with hers and interrupts, "I haven't re-thought that." 

"Oh, good… because as I said, I'd be very disappointed if we didn't get to Wisconsin..." 

This time she elbows me in the stomach. "We're getting a tree for my apartment because I love them. And it puts me in the holiday spirit. I love the way they look and I love picking one out and decorating it. I love my ornaments." She takes a deep breath in through her nose. "And I love the way they smell…" 

"They do smell good…" I agree as a memory starts to form. She keeps talking about how a Christmas tree isn't just for Christmas, it's for the whole season, but I don't really hear her… 

*** 

"Josh, are you listening to me?" I bump his shoulder with mine, and he looks up, startled. "Where were you just then?" 

"Oh… nowhere… just thinking…" 

"About what?" 

He shakes his head once as if to clear it and stares straight ahead out into the tree lot. "I can't believe I forgot this. But we had a tree once..."  

"You did?" 

"Yeah... it must have been... well, it was… that's right, it was the year before Joanie..."  Josh trails off. 

"Oh…" I reach over and lay my glove-clad hand over his, even as I feel a pang in my chest at the mention of Joanie's death. Forcing my voice to sound normal for his sake, I ask, "Why did you have a tree?" 

"I remember…" I see him swallow hard from out of the corner of my eye and crinkle his forehead in concentration. "Yeah… she wanted a Christmas tree so much.  We were kind of the minority in our particular neighborhood, so… we were inundated with Christmas. Every other house on the block was covered in lights and decked out for Christmas, with huge, colorful trees in their windows…" 

"I bet that was hard." 

"Not hard, really, but being that young, it was just difficult to understand why we couldn't have trees and Santa and Christmas, like the other kids on our block, too. And that year, I remember her whining that her friends had them and she begged and cried…" 

"Well, they are pretty cool." 

He shoots me a small smile. "I don't know what it was, or why they finally gave in. Probably because my mom always secretly liked Christmas trees, too. But they finally relented and got a Chanukah bush.  Of course, it was the biggest pine tree I'd ever seen, set right in our living room. It was, without a doubt, a Christmas tree, but my parents called it a Chanukah bush." 

"Really." I smile and squeeze his hands. "The Lymans with their very own Christmas… I mean, Chanukah bush." 

"Yeah. Thinking back, we really liked the tree, I bet it would have become a tradition if Joanie hadn't..." He trails off, leaving the thought unspoken. 

"Really?" 

"Yeah, but the holidays… really no holiday was the same after she died. I can't believe I forgot that." 

"You were pretty young; it's not surprising you would have forgotten." 

"Yeah, I guess that could be one of the reasons I'm not that into any of the holidays…" 

We sit in silence for several moments before I turn towards him. "We're going to change that." 

He looks at me skeptically, but I can still see a smile play around the corners of his mouth. "Are you sure that's something that needs changing?" 

"Yes, because you're not alone anymore, Josh." 

He turns towards me slightly and then leans over and kisses me sweetly, before leveling his gaze at me. "Donna, I haven't felt alone since the day I met you." 

His words have the desired effect on me. If his desired effect was to get me to kiss him senseless, headless of the fact that we're sitting at the back of the largest Christmas tree lot in the metropolitan D.C. area, in the freezing cold, in plain view of anyone that might also be in the market for a Christmas tree on a Tuesday night in early December. 

Reluctantly, I pull away and settle back against his arm, which is now stretched behind me. "So tell me about this large Chanukah bush. What did you put on it?" 

After I ask the question I take a sip of my hot chocolate, which is now lukewarm, and realize that I'm freezing. I also realize that I desperately need to stand up in order to get the blood circulating in my legs again and we should probably get a move on with picking out a tree and getting it back to my place. But Josh seems willing to talk about his childhood, and there is nothing in the world that would make me do anything that might disrupt his reminiscence. It's something that doesn't happen very often, and I regard it as a precious gift.  

"There was no baby Jesus in a manger, if that's what you're asking." I can hear the amusement in his voice 

"I wasn't." I whap him lightly on the shoulder. "I don't have any baby-Jesus-in-a-manger ornaments either, in case you were worried." 

Josh ignores me and looks thoughtful for a second. "I just remember lights... lots and lots of lights." 

"Yeah." I nod my head and run my thumb along his where our hands are linked. "The lights are pretty much the best part." 

He gets a faraway look in his eye and a small smile crosses his face.  "And paper snowflakes... Mom got out the construction paper and we made all these paper snowflakes. I remember cutting for hours because Joanie rejected all my snowflakes for not being uniform enough.  But I kept going, because I wanted to make a snowflake that passed her inspection." 

"Did you?" 

"I don't think so.  But then Mom said that we were going to use them all, and we did." 

   

"What about for the top?" 

Josh furrows his brow and then smiles.  "A stuffed teddy bear.  Joanie's stuffed teddy bear.  I remember my dad on a ladder, cussing, trying to tie her teddy bear to the top of the tree... errrr, bush."  

"That's nice. That's really nice." I link my arm through his and hug it tightly to me. 

"Donna?" He smiles down at me. 

"Yes?" 

"I can't feel my bottom." 

I return his grin. "Me either." 

"We should get going, because I'm not comfortable with being unable to feel my bottom." 

"'Kay," I agree and start to stand. 

"Wait." He tugs on my arm. 

"What?" I ask with a crinkled brow. 

"Right there." I glance to where he's pointing. "Have I gotten the hang of this? Or is that not the perfect tree?" 

It's only about five feet away from us and he's right; it's exactly what we're looking for. Size, shape, tree-type. I must have looked at it a dozen times since we've been sitting on this bench, and never really noticed it. "Imagine that. The perfect tree, right under our noses the whole time." 

He smiles knowingly at me. "Yeah, life is funny like that sometimes." 

*** 

We get the tree strapped to the car and then back to her place, surprisingly incident-free. There is a wrestling match with the stand, but eventually we get the thing upright and into the corner of her small living room. The lights are a whole other matter. 

"You can't just throw them on!" She's scowling at me. I like it when she twinkles at me, not so much when she scowls at me. 

"Why not?" 

"What do you mean why? Because! There has to be order, or they'll get all clumpy and look bad. Here, let me show you." 

Now she's standing behind me, showing me how to hook and drape the lights over the branches. All I really care about is the fact that I can feel her pressed up against my backside. Putting lights on a Christmas tree is fun. 

"Good. Now let me see you do it by yourself." She steps to the side to survey my technique. Suddenly putting lights on the Christmas tree is a lot less fun. 

"What am I, your manservant now?" 

"Maybe a little." But she wraps her arms around my waist and hugs me from behind. 

"Awfully cocky for a girl who won't put out, aren't you?" 

"Yup, because I know you're in this at least until you get a little action. Which gives me like, twenty some days in which to boss you around." 

"What happens after twenty some days?" I couldn't stop the goofy grin that is spreading across my face if I tried. 

"Oh, by then you'll be totally smitten with me. And I'll be able to boss you around because of that." 

"You think I'm going to be smitten?" 

"Yup, in fact, I guarantee it." 

I flip around in her arms so that we are face to face. "I have news for you, Miss Moss…" 

"What's that?" 

"I'm already smitten." 

"You are?" Boy, do I love it when I make her blush. 

"Yup, totally smitten." 

"Well, then…" She leans forward and presses her lips to mine in a way that's so soft and so sweet that I really would be okay if her lips never left mine. Finally she pulls away and continues, "…get to work. This tree isn't going to decorate itself." And then she steps away, pats me on the butt and starts unraveling more lights. 

*** 

Thirty minutes later we've got the lights on, and a good number of ornaments have been hung with care. She seems to be very fond of glass balls and things made with painted Popsicle sticks. There are a lot of those; apparently she has lots of little relatives who have made and sent those to her over the years. I can't wait to meet them all! You don't believe me, do you? As we stand back to survey our handiwork, I notice that she's shaking her head. 

"What?" It looks pretty good to me. 

"Something's missing." 

"I don't know. We've got the tree pretty full as it is." It's hard hunting for open spots to hang things, like the priceless crystal angels that she got from her grandmother. Frankly, it was more than a little nervewracking. I'm not sure I was cut out to handle such delicate things. 

"I've got it!" 

"What?" 

"Stay here," she orders as she starts to head out of the room. 

"Where would I go?" 

She stops at the hallway entrance and eyes me suspiciously. "Into the bedroom to paw through my underwear drawer." 

"That hadn't even occurred to me!" I defend, but then kind of ruin the effect by adding, "But can I?" 

"No." But she shoots me a seductive smile. "At least not right now. I'll be right back." And she disappears down the hall. A minute later she appears, waving an armful of supplies at me. 

"What's that?" 

She raises her eyebrow at the question. "What does it look like? It's construction paper." 

"You actually have construction paper?" 

"Sure." 

"Why? Are you twelve?" 

"No, I'm… slightly older than that." 

"Then why?" 

"Because I'm crafty. And because my ex-roommate has nieces and nephews that would stop by occasionally. I think there are crayons, too." 

"What are we doing with the construction paper and crayons?" 

"We aren't doing anything with the crayons. With construction paper, we're each going to make a paper snowflake… for the tree. In memory of Joanie." 

Without my consent, I feel burning behind my eyes and something constrict around my chest. I bite my lip and start blinking rapidly. "Donna…" 

"Is that okay?" She looks at me earnestly. 

So as not to expose myself, I don't speak, but I do nod vigorously. Her thoughtfulness is something that never ceases to amaze me. She pretends not to notice that I'm choked up, and begins to spread out the paper on the floor. 

"What color do you want?" She looks up at me with wide eyes and I'm reminded once again what an idiot I was all those years and how much I want to be with her, always. 

"Blue. Joanie liked blue." I drop to my knees and plop down beside her. 

And then we're sitting on her living room floor at the foot of the tree, folding and cutting construction paper into snowflakes. Of all the things that I thought I'd be doing tonight, this wasn't even a possibility. But it's clear to me that there is nothing I'd rather be doing and no place I'd rather be. 


End file.
